the bands of mourning extract (chaps 1-5)

7/25/2019 The Bands of Mourning Extract (Chaps 1-5)

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BRANDON SANDERSON

GOLLANCZLONDON


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Copyright Dragonsteel Entertainment, LLC 2016All rights reserved

Interior illustrations by Isaac Stewart and Ben McSweeney

The right of Brandon Sanderson to be identified as the author of thiswork has been asserted by him in accordance with the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First published in Great Britain in 2016 by GollanczAn imprint of the Orion Publishing Group

Carmelite House, 50 Victoria Embankment, London EC4Y 0DZ

An Hachette UK Company

A CIP catalogue record for this book is availablefrom the British Library

ISBN 978 1 473 20825 4 (Cased)ISBN 978 1 473 20826 1 (Export Trade Paperback)

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Printed in Great Britain by

Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

The Orion Publishing Groups policy is to use papers thatare natural, renewable and recyclable products and madefrom wood grown in sustainable forests. The logging andmanufacturing processes are expected to conform to the

environmental regulations of the country of origin.

www.brandonsanderson.comwww.orionbooks.co.uk

www.gollancz.co.uk


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FOR BEN OLSEN

Who keeps putting up with a bunch of crazy writers as friends,

And nds time to make our books better all the while.


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PROLOGUE

Telsin! Waxillium hissed as he crept out of the training hut.

Glancing back, Telsin winced and crouched lower. At six-

teen, Waxilliums sister was one year older than he was. Her long

dark hair framed a button nose and prim lips, and colorful V shapes

ran up the front of her traditional Terris robes. Those always seemedto t her in a way his never did. On Telsin, they were elegant.

Waxillium felt like he was wearing a sack.

Go away, Asinthew, she said, inching around the side of the hut.

Youre going to miss evening recitation.

They wont notice Im gone. They never check.

Inside the hut, Master Tellingdwar droned on about proper Terris

attitudes. Submission, meekness, and what they called respectful

dignity. He was speaking to the younger students; the older ones,

like Waxillium and his sister, were supposed to be meditating.

Telsin scrambled away, moving through the forested area of

Elendel referred to simply as the Village. Waxillium fretted, then

hurried after his sister.

Youre going to get into trouble, he said once he caught up. He

followed her around the trunk of an enormous oak tree. Youre

going to getmeinto trouble.

0


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16 B R A N D O N S A N D E R S O N

So? she said. What is it with you and rules anyway?

Nothing, he said. I just

She stalked off into the forest. He sighed and trailed after her,

and eventually they met up with three other Terris youths: two girls

and a tall boy. Kwashim, one of the girls, looked Waxillium up anddown. She was dark-skinned and slender. You brought him?

He followed me, Telsin said.

Waxillium smiled at Kwashim hopefully, then at Idashwy, the other

girl. She had wide-set eyes and was his own age. And Harmony . . .

she was gorgeous. She noticed his attention on her and blinked a few

times, then glanced away, a demure smile on her lips.

Hell tell on us, Kwashim said, drawing his attention away fromthe other girl. You know he will.

I wont, Waxillium snapped.

Kwashim gave Waxillium a glare. You might miss evening class.

Wholl answer all the questions? It will be rusting quiet in the

classroom with nobody to fawn over the teacher.

Forch, the tall boy, stood just inside the shadows. Waxillium didnt

look at Forch, didnt meet his eyes. He doesnt know, right? He cant

know.Forch was the oldest of them, but rarely said much.He was Twinborn, like Waxillium. Not that either of them used

their Allomancy much these days. In the Village, it was their Terris

sidetheir Feruchemy that was lauded. The fact that both he and

Forch were Coinshots didnt matter to the Terris.

Lets go, Telsin said. No more arguing. We probably dont have

much time. If my brother wants to tag along, then ne.

They followed her beneath the canopy, feet crackling on leaves.

With this much foliage, you could easily forget you were in the middle

of an enormous city. The sounds of shouting men and iron-shod

hooves on cobbles were distant, and you couldnt see or smell the

smoke in here. The Terris worked hard to keep their section of

the city tranquil, quiet, peaceful.

Waxillium should have loved it here.

The group of ve youths soon approached the Synods Lodge,

where the ranking Terris elders had their ofces. Telsin waved for


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THE BANDS OF MOURNING 17

the group of them to wait while she hurried up to a particular window

to listen. Waxillium found himself looking about, anxious. Evening

was approaching, the forest growing dim, butanyonecould walk along

and nd them.

Dont worry so much,he told himself. He needed to join in theirantics like his sister did. Then theyd see him as one of them. Right?

Sweat trickled down the sides of his face. Nearby, Kwashim

leaned against a tree, completely unconcerned, a smirk growing on

her lips as she noticed how nervous he was. Forch stood in the shad-

ows, not crouching, but rustshe could have been one of the trees, for

all the emotion he showed. Waxillium glanced at Idashwy, with her

large eyes, and she blushed, looking away.Telsin snuck back to them. Shes in there.

Thats our grandmothers ofce, Waxillium said.

Of course it is, Telsin said. And she got called into her ofce

for an emergency. Right, Idashwy?

The quiet girl nodded. I saw Elder Vwafendal running past my

meditation room.

Kwashim grinned. So she wont be watching.

Watching what? Waxillium asked.The Tin Gate, Kwashim said. We can get out into the city. This

is going to be even easier than usual!

Usual? Waxillium said, looking in horror from Kwashim to his

sister. Youve done this before?

Sure, Telsin said. Hard to get a good drink in the Village. Great

pubs two streets over though.

Youre an outsider, Forch said to him as he stepped up. He spoke

slowly, deliberately, as if each word required separate consideration.

Why should you care if we leave? Look, youre shaking. What are

you afraid of? You lived most of your life out there.

Yourean outsider, they said. Why was his sister always able to

worm her way into any group? Why did he always have to stand

on the outside?

Im not shaking, Waxillium said to Forch. I just dont want to

get into trouble.


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Hesgoingto turn us in, Kwashim said.

Im not.Not for this anyway,Waxillium thought.

Lets go, Telsin said, leading the pack through the forest to the

Tin Gate, which was a fancy name for something that was really

just another streetthough granted, it had a stone archway etchedwith ancient Terris symbols for the sixteen metals.

Beyond it lay a different world. Glowing gas lamps marching along

streets, newsboys trudging home for the night with unsold broad-

sheets tucked under their arms. Workers heading to the rowdy pubs

for a drink. Hed never really known that world; hed grown up in a

lavish mansion stuffed with ne clothes, caviar, and wine.

Something about that simple life called to him. Perhaps hed nditthere. The thing hed never found. The thing everyone else seemed

to have, but he couldnt even put a name to.

The other four youths scuttled out, passing the building with

shadowed windows where Waxillium and Telsins grandmother would

usually be sitting and reading this time of night. The Terris didnt

employ guards at the entrances to their domain, but they didwatch.

Waxillium didnt leave, not yet. He looked down, pulling back the

sleeves of his robe to expose the metalmind bracers he wore there.You coming? Telsin called to him.

He didnt respond.

Of course youre not. You never want to risk trou ble.

She led Forch and Kwashim away. Surprisingly though, Idashwy

lingered. The quiet girl looked back at him questioningly.

I can do this,Waxillium thought. Its nothing big.His sisters taunt

ringing in his ears, he forced himself forward and joined Idashwy.

He felt sick, but he fell in beside her, enjoying her shy smile.

So, what was the emergency? he asked Idashwy.

Huh?

The emergency that called Grandmother away?

Idashwy shrugged, pulling off her Terris robe, briey shocking

him until he saw that she wore a conventional skirt and blouse

underneath. She tossed the robe into the bushes. I dont know much.


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I saw your grandmother running to the Synod Lodge, and overheard

Tathed asking about it. Some kind of crisis. We were planning to slip

out tonight, so I gured, you know, this would be a good time.

But the emergency . . . Waxillium said, looking over his shoulder.

Something about a constable captain coming to question her,Idashwy said.

A constable?

Lets go, Asinthew, she said, taking his hand. Your grand-

mother is likely to make short work of the outsider. She could be

on her way here already!

Hed frozen in place.

Idashwy looked at him. Those lively brown eyes made it hard forhim to think. Come on, she urged. Sneaking out is hardly even an

infraction. Didnt you liveout here for fourteen years?

Rusts.

I need to go, he said, turning back to run toward the forest.

Idashwy stood in place as he left her. Waxillium entered the

woods, sprinting for the Synod Lodge. You know shes going to

think youre a coward now,part of him observed. They all will.

Waxillium skidded to the ground outside his grandmothers of-ce window, heart thumping. He pressed against the wall, and yes,

he couldhear something through the open window.

We police ourselves, constable, Grandmother Vwafendal said

from inside. You know this.

Waxillium dared to push himself up, peeking in the window to

see Grandmother seated at her desk, a picture of Terris rectitude,

with her hair in a braid and her robes immaculate.

The man standing across the desk from her held his constables

hat under his arm as a sign of respect. He was an older man with

drooping mustaches, and the insignia on his breast marked him as a

captain and a detective. High rank. Important.

Yes!Waxillium thought, ddling in his pocket for his notes.

The Terris police themselves, the constable said, because they

rarely need policing.


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They dont need it now.

My informant

So now you have an informant? Grand mother asked. I thought

it was an anonymous tip.

Anonymous, yes, the constable said, laying a sheet of paper onthe desk. But I consider this more than just a tip.

Waxilliums grandmother picked up the sheet. Waxillium knew

what it said. Hed sent it, along with a letter, to the constables in the

rst place.

A shirt that smells of smoke, hanging behind his door.

Muddied boots that match the size of the prints left outside the

burned building.Flasks of oil in the chest beneath his bed.

The list contained a dozen clues pointing to Forch as the one

whod burned the dining lodge to the ground earlier in the month.

It thrilled Waxillium to see that the constables had taken his nd-

ings seriously.

Disturbing, Grandmother said, but I dont see anything on this

list that gives you the right to intrude upon our domain, Captain.

The constable leaned down to rest his hands on the edge of herdesk, confronting her. You werent so quick to reject our help when

we sent a re brigade to extinguish that blaze.

I will always accept help saving lives, Grand mother said. But I

need no help in locking them away. Thank you.

Is it because this Forch is Twinborn? Are you frightened of his

powers?

She gave him a scornful look.

Elder, he said, taking a deep breath. You have a criminal among

you

Ifwe do, she said, we will deal with the individual ourselves. I

have visited the houses of sorrow and destruction you outsiders call

prisons, Captain. I will not see one of my own immured there based

on hearsay and anonymous fancies sent via post.

The constable breathed out and stood up straight again. He set


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something new down on the desk with a snap. Waxillium squinted to

see, but the constable was covering the object with his hand.

Do you know much about arson, Elder? the constable asked

softly. Its often what we call a companion crime. You nd it used

to cover a burglary, to perpetrate fraud, or as an act of initial aggres-sion. In a case like this, the re is commonly just a harbinger. At best

you have a rebug who is waiting to burn again. At worst . . . well,

something bigger is coming, Elder. Something youll all regret.

Grandmother drew her lips to a line. The constable removed his

hand, revealing what hed put on the desk. A bullet.

What is this? Grandmother said.

A reminder.Grandmother slapped it off the table, sending it snapping against

the wall near where Waxillium hid. He jumped back and crouched

lower, heart pounding.

Do not bring your instruments of death into this place, Grand-

mother hissed.

Waxillium got back to the window in time to see the constable

settling his hat on his head. When that boy burns something again,

he said softly, send for me. Hopefully it wont be too late. Goodevening.

He left without a further word. Waxillium huddled against the

side of the building, worried the constable would look back and

see him. It didnt happen. The man marched out along the path,

disappearing into the evening shadows.

But Grandmother . . . she hadnt believed. Couldnt she see?

Forch had committed a crime. They were just going to leave him

alone? Why

Asinthew, Grandmother said, using Waxilliums Terris name as

she always did. Would you please join me?

He felt an immediate spike of alarm, followed by shame. He stood

up. How did you know? he said through the window.

Reection on my mirror, child, she said, holding a cup of tea in

both hands, not looking toward him. Obey. If you please.


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Sullenly, he trudged around the building and through the front

doors of the wooden lodge. The whole place smelled of the wood

stain hed recently helped apply. He still had the stuff under his

ngernails.

He stepped into the room and shut the door. Why did youPlease sit down, Asinthew, she said softly.

He walked to the desk, but didnt take the guest seat. He remained

standing, right where the constable had.

Your handwriting, Grandmother said, brushing at the paper the

constable had left. Did I not tell you that the matter of Forch was

under control?

You say a lot of things, Grandmother. I believe when I see proof.Vwafendal leaned forward, steam rising from the cup in her

hands. Oh, Asinthew, she said. I thought you were determined

to t in here.

I am.

Then why are you listening at my window instead of doing

evening meditations?

He looked away, blushing.

The Terris way is about order,child, Grandmother said. Wehave rules for a reason.

And burning down buildings isnt against the rules?

Of courseit is, Grandmother said. But Forch is not your respon-

sibility. Weve spoken to him. Hes penitent. His crime was that of a

misguided youth who spends too much time alone. Ive asked some

of the others to befriend him. Hewilldo penance for his crime, in

our way. Would you rather see him rot in prison?

Waxillium hesitated, then sighed, dropping into the chair before

his grandmothers desk. I want to nd out what is right, he whis-

pered, and do it. Why is that so hard?

Grandmother frowned. Its easy to discover what is right and

wrong, child. I will admit that always choosingto follow what you

know you should do is

No, Waxillium said. Then he winced. It wasnt wise to inter-

rupt Grandmother V. She never yelled, but her disapproval could be


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sensed as surely as an imminent thunderstorm. He continued more

softly. No, Grandmother. Finding out whats right isnteasy.

It is written in our ways. It is taught every day in your lessons.

Thats one voice, Waxillium said, one philosophy. There are so

many. . . .Grandmother reached across the desk and put her hand on his.

Her skin was warm from holding the teacup. Ah, Asinthew, she

said. I understand how hard it must be for you. A child of two

worlds.

Two worlds,he thought immediately, but no home.

But you must heed what you are taught, Grand mother contin-

ued. You promised me you would obey our rules while you werehere.

Ive been trying.

I know. I hear good reports from Tellingdwar and your other

instructors. They say you learn the material better than anyone

that its as if youve lived here all your life! Im proud of your effort.

The other kids dont accept me. Ive tried to do as you sayto

be moreTerris than anyone, to provemy blood to them. But the

kids . . . Ill never be one of them, Grandmother. Never is a word youths often use, Grandmother said, sipping

her tea, but rarely understand. Let the rules become your guide. In

them, you will nd peace. If some are resentful because of your zeal,

let them be. Eventually, through meditation, they will make peace

with such emotions.

Could you . . . maybe order a few of the others to befriend me?

he found himself asking, ashamed of how weak it sounded to say

the words. Like you did with Forch?

I will see, Grandmother said. Now, off with you. I will not

report this indiscretion, Asinthew, but please promise me you will set

aside this obsession with Forch and leave the punishment of others

to the Synod.

Waxillium moved to stand up, and his foot slipped on something.

He reached down. The bullet.

Asinthew? Grandmother asked.


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He trapped the bullet in his st as he straightened, then hurried

out the door.

Metal is your life, Tellingdwar said from the front of the hut, movinginto the nal parts of the evening recitation.

Waxillium knelt in meditation, listening to the words. Around

him, rows of peaceful Terris were similarly bowed in reverence,

offering praise to Preservation, the ancient god of their faith.

Metal is your soul, Tellingdwar said.

So much was perfect in this quiet world. Why did Waxillium

sometimes feel like he was dragging dirt in solely by being here? Thatthey were all part of one big white canvas, and he a smudge at the

bottom?

You preserve us, Tellingdwar said, and so we will be yours.

A bullet,Waxillium thought, the bit of metal still clenched in

his palm. Why did he leave a bullet as a reminder? What does it

mean?It seemed an odd symbol.

Recitation complete, the youths, children, and adults alike rose

and stretched. There was some jovial interaction, but curfew hadnearly arrived, which meant that the younger set had to be on their

way to their homesor in Waxilliums case, the dormitories. He

remained kneeling anyway.

Tellingdwar started gathering up the mats people had used for

kneeling. He kept his head shaved; his robes were bright yellows and

oranges. Arms laden with mats, he paused as he noticed Waxillium

hadnt left with the others. Asinthew? Are you well?

Waxillium nodded tiredly, climbing to his feet, legs numb from

kneeling so long. He plodded toward the exit, where he paused.

Tellingdwar?

Yes, Asinthew?

Has there ever been a violent crime in the Village?

The short steward froze, his grip tightening on the load of mats.

What makes you ask?

Curiosity.


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You neednt worry. That was long ago.

Whatwas long ago?

Tellingdwar retrieved the remaining mats, moving more quickly

than before. Perhaps someone else would have avoided the question,

but Tellingdwar was as candid as they came. A classic Terris virtuein his eyes, avoiding a question would be as bad as lying.

Im not surprised theyre still whispering about it, Tellingdwar

said. Fifteen years cant wash away that blood, I suppose. The ru-

mors are wrong, however. Only one person was killed. A woman, by

her husbands hand. Both Terris. He hesitated. I knew them.

How did he kill her?

Must you know this?Well, the rumors . . .

Tellingdwar sighed. A gun. An outsider weapon. We dont know

where he got it. Tellingdwar shook his head, dropping the mats into a

stack at the side of the room. I guess we shouldnt be surprised. Men

are the same everywhere, Asinthew. You must remember this. Do not

think yourself better than another because you wear the robe.

Trust Tellingdwar to turn any conversation into a lesson. Waxil-

lium nodded to him and slipped out into the night. The sky rumbledabove, foretelling rain, but there was no mist yet.

Men are the same everywhere, Asinthew. . . .What was the pur-

pose, then, of everything they taught in here? If it couldnt prevent

men from acting like monsters?

He reached the boys dorm, which was quiet. It was just after

curfew, and Waxillium had to bow his head to the dormmaster in

apology before rushing down the hallway and into his room on the

ground oor. Waxilliums father had insisted he be given a room to

himself, because of his noble heritage. That had only served to set

him apart from the others.

He shucked off his robe and threw open his wardrobe. His old

clothing hung there. Rain began to patter against his window as he

threw on some trousers and a buttoning shirt, which he found more

comfortable than those rusting robes. He trimmed his lamp and sat

back on his cot, opening a book for some eve ning reading.


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Outside, the sky rumbled like an empty stomach. Waxillium tried

to read for a few minutes, then tossed the book asidenearly knock-

ing over his lamp and threw himself to his feet. He walked to the

win dow, watching the water stream down. It fell in patches and

columns, because of the thick canopy of leaves. He reached over andextinguished the lamp.

He stared at the rain, thoughts tumbling in his head. Hed have

to make a decision soon. The agreement between his grandmother

and his parents required Waxillium to spend one year in the Vil-

lage, and only a month of that remained. After that, it would be his

choice whether to stay or to leave.

What awaited him outside? White tablecloths, posturing peoplewith nasal accents, and politics.

What awaited him here? Quiet rooms, meditation, and boredom.

A life he detested or a life of mind-numbing repetition. Day after

day after day . . . and . . .

Was that someone moving through the trees?

Waxillium perked up, pressing against the cool glass. That was

someone trudging through the wet forest, a shadowed gure with a

familiar height and posture, stooped and carry ing a sack over hisshoulder. Forch glanced toward the dormitory, but then continued

on into the night.

So they were back. That was faster than hed expected. What was

Telsins plan for getting into the dorms? Slip in through the windows,

then claim theyd come home before curfew and the dormmaster just

hadnt seen them?

Waxillium waited, wondering if hed spot the three girls as well,

but saw nothing. Only Forch, disappearing into the shadows. Where

was he going?

Another re,Waxillium thought immediately. But Forch wouldnt

do it in this rain, would he?

Waxillium glanced at the clock ticking quietly on his wall. An

hour after curfew. He hadnt realized hed spent so much time star-

ing at the rain.


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Forch is not my problem,he told himself rmly. He walked back

to lie on his bed, but soon found himself pacing instead. Listening to

the rain, anxious, unable to stop his body from moving.

Curfew . . .

Let the rules become your guide. In them nd peace.He stopped beside the window. Then he pushed it open and

leaped out, bare feet sinking into the wet, rubbery ground. He scram-

bled forward, streams of water spraying across his head, trickling

down the back of his shirt. Which way had Forch gone?

He took his best guess, passing enormous trees like hewn mono-

liths, the rush of rain and streaming water drowning out all else. A

boot print in the mud near a tree trunk hinted he was on the righttrack, but he had to lean down low to see it. Rusts! It was getting

dark out here.

Where next? Waxillium turned about. There,he thought. Storage

hall.An old dormitory, now unoccupied, where the Terris kept extra

furniture and rugs. That would be a perfect target for arson, right?

Plenty of stuff inside to burn, and nobody would expect it in this rain.

But Grandmother spoke to him,Waxillium thought, scrambling

through the rain, feet cold as he kicked up fallen leaves and moss.Theyll know it was him.Didnt he care? Was he tryingto get into

trouble?

Waxillium stepped up to the old dormitory, a three-story mass of

blackness in the already dark night, showers of water streaming off

its eaves. Waxillium tested the door, and it was unlocked of course

this was the Village. He slipped inside.

There. A pool of water on the oor. Someone hadentered here

recently. He followed in a crouch, touching the footprints one after

another, until he reached the stairwell. Up one ight, then another.

What was up here? He reached the top oor and saw a light ahead.

Waxillium crept through a hallway with a rug down the center,

approaching what turned out to be a ickering candle set on a table

in a small room cluttered with furniture and with dark, heavy drapes

on the walls.


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Waxillium stepped up to the candle. It shivered, frail and alone.

Why had Forch left it here? What was

Something heavy smashed across Waxilliums back. He gasped

in pain, thrown forward by the blow, stumbling into a pair of chairs

stacked atop one another. Boots thumped on the oor behind him.Waxillium managed to throw himself to the side, rolling to the oor

as Forch smashed an old wooden post into the chairs, cracking them.

Waxillium scrambled to his feet, his shoulders throbbing. Forch

turned toward him, face all in shadow.

Waxillium backed away. Forch! Its all right. I just want to talk.

He winced as his back hit the wall. You dont have to

Forch came at him swinging. Waxillium yelped and ducked intothe hallway. Help! he shouted as Forch followed him. Help!

Waxillium had meant to scramble toward the stairs, but hed got-

ten turned around. Instead he was running away from them. He

slammed his shoulder against the door at the end of the hallway.

That would lead to the upper meeting room, if the dormitory here

had the same layout as his own. And maybe another set of steps?

Waxillium pushed through the door and into a brighter room.

Old tables stacked atop one another surrounded an open space atthe center, like an audience and a stage.

There, in the middle and lit by a dozen candles, a young boy of

maybe ve lay tied to a wooden plank that stretched between two

tables. His shirt had been cut off and lay on the oor. His cries were

mufed by a gag, and he struggled weakly against his bonds.

Waxillium stumbled to a halt, taking in the boy, the line of gleam-

ing knives set out on a table nearby, the trails of blood from cuts

on the boys chest.

Oh, hell, Waxillium whispered.

Forch entered behind him, then closed the door with a click.

Oh, hell, Waxillium said, turning, wide-eyed. Forch, what is

wrong with you?

Dont know, the young man said softly. Ive just got to see whats

inside. You know?

You went with the girls, Waxillium said, so youd have an alibi.


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If your room is found empty, youll say you were with them. A lesser

infraction to hide your true crime. Rusts! My sister and the others

dont know that you slipped back, do they? Theyre out there drunk,

and they wont even remember that you were gone. Theyll swear you

wereWaxillium cut off as Forch looked up, eyes reecting candlelight,

face expressionless. He held up a handful of nails.

Thats right. Forch is a

Waxillium shouted, throwing himself toward a pile of furniture

as nails zipped from Forchs hand, Pushed by his Allomancy. They

hit like hail, snapping against wooden tables, chair legs, and the oor.

A sudden pain struck Wax in the arm as he scuttled backward.He cried out, grabbing his arm as he got behind cover. One of

the nails had ripped off a chunk of his esh near the elbow.

Metal. He neededmetal.

It had been months since hed burned steel. Grand mother wanted

him to embrace his Terris side. He raised his arms, and found them

bare. His bracers . . .

In your room, idiot,Waxillium thought. He shed in his trouser

pocket. He always used to keep . . .A pouch of metal akes. He dug it out as he scrambled away from

Forch, who threw aside tables and chairs to get to him. In the back-

ground, the captive child whimpered.

Waxilliums ngers trembled as he tried to get the packet of metal

akes open, but it suddenly leaped from his ngers and shot across

the room. He spun on Forch, desperate, just in time to see the man

slide a metal bar off a table and toss it.

Waxillium tried to duck. Too slow. The Steelpushed bar slammed

against his chest, throwing him backward. Forch grunted, stumbling.

He wasnt practiced with his Allomancy, and hadnt properly braced

himself. His Push threw him backward as much as it tossed Waxil-

lium.

Still, Waxillium hit the wall with a grunt, and he felt something

crackinside of him. He gasped, his vision blackening as he dropped

to his knees. The room wavered.


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The pouch. Get the pouch!

He searched the oor around him, frantic, barely able to think.

He needed that metal! His ngers, bloodied, brushed it. Eager, he

snatched the pouch and pulled open the cloth top. He tipped back

his head to dump the akes in.A shadow thundered over to him and kicked him in the stomach.

The broken bone inside of Waxillium gave, and he screamed, hav-

ing gotten barely a pinch of metal into his mouth. Forch slapped the

pouch out of his hand, scattering the akes, then picked him up.

The youth looked bulkier than he should have. Tapping a metal-

mind. A frenzied part of Waxilliums brain tried to Push on the mans

bracers, but Feruchemical metalminds were infamously difcult toaffect with Allomancy. His Push wasnt strong enough.

Forch shoved Waxillium out the open win dow, dangling him by

his neck. Rain washed over Waxillium, and he strug gled for breath.

Please . . . Forch . . .

Forch dropped him.

Waxillium fell with the rain.

Three stories down, through the branches of a maple tree, scat-

tering wet leaves.Steel burned to life inside of him, spraying blue lines from his

chest to nearby sources of metal. All above, none below. Nothing to

Push on to save himself.

Except one bit in his trouser pocket.

Waxillium Pushed on it, desperate, as he tumbled in the air. It

shot through his pocket, down along his leg, cutting a line in the

side of his foot before being propelled down into the ground by his

weight. Waxillium jerked in the air, slowing as soon as the bit of

metal hit the ground.

He crashed onto the sodden pathway feet-rst, pain jolting up his

legs. He fell back to the ground, and found himself dazed but alive.

His Push had saved him.

Rain fell on his face. He waited, but Forch didnt come down to

nish him off. The youth had slammed the shutters, perhaps worried

someone would see the light of his candles.


21/94


Every part of Waxillium ached. Shoulders from the rst blow, legs

from the fall, chest from the barhow many ribs had he broken? He

lay there in the rain, coughing, before nally rolling over to nd the

bit of metal that had saved his life. He found it easily by following

its Allomantic line, and dug in the mud, pulling out something andholding it up.

The constables bullet. Rain washed his hand, cleansing the metal.

He didnt even remember stufng it into his pocket.

In a case like this, the re is often just a harbinger. . . .

He should go get help. But that boy above was already bleeding.

The knives were out.

Something bigger is coming, Elder. Something youll all regret.Suddenly Waxillium hated Forch. This place was perfect, serene.

Beautiful. Darkness shouldnt exist here. If Waxillium was a smudge

on the white canvas, this man was a pit of pure blackness.

Waxillium shouted, climbing to his feet and throwing himself

through the back door and into the old building. He climbed two

ights in a haze of stumbling pain before slamming open the door

into the meeting room. Forch stood above the weeping child, a bloody

knife in his hand. He turned his head slowly, showing Waxilliumone eye, half of his face.

Waxillium threw the single bullet up between them, its casing

glittering in candlelight, then Pushedwith everything he had. Forch

turned and Pushed back.

The reaction was immediate. The bullet stopped in midair, inches

from Forchs face. Both men were thrown backward, but Forch

caught himself on a group of tables, staying steady. Waxillium was

slammed against the wall beside the doorway.

Forch smiled, and his muscles swelled, strength drawn from his

metalmind. He pulled his bar from the table of knives and threw

it at Waxillium, who cried out, Pushing against it to stop it from

smashing him.

He wasnt strong enough. Forch continued to Push,and Waxillium

had so little steel. The bar slipped forward in the air, pressing against

Waxilliums chest, pushing him against the wall.


22/94


Time froze. One bullet hanging just before Forch, their main ght

over the bar which bit by bitcrushed Waxillium. His chest ared

in pain, and a scream slipped from his lips.

He was going to die here.

I just want to do what is right. Why is that so hard?Forch stepped forward, grinning.

Waxilliums eyes xed on that bullet, glittering golden. He couldnt

breathe. But that bullet . . .

Metal is your life.

A bullet. Three parts metal. The tip.

Metal is your soul.

The casing.You preserve us . . .

And the knob at the back. The spot the hammer would hit.

In that moment, to Waxilliums eyes, they split into three lines,

three parts. He took them all in at once. And then, as the bar crushed

him, he let go of two bits.

Andshovedon that knob at the back.

The bullet exploded. The casing ipped backward into the air,

Pushed by Forchs Allomancy, while the bullet itself zipped forward,untouched, before drilling into Forchs skull.

Waxillium dropped to the ground, the bar propelled away. He col-

lapsed in a heap, gasping for breath, rainwater streaming from his

face to the wooden oor.

In a daze, he heard voices below. People nally responding to the

shouts, then the sound of gunre. He forced himself to his feet and

limped through the room, ignoring the voices of Terrismen and

women who climbed the steps. He reached the child and ripped

off the bonds, freeing him. Instead of running in fear, however, the

little boy grabbed Waxilliums leg and held on tight, weeping.

People poured into the room. Waxillium leaned down, picking up

the bullet casing off the wet oor, then stood up straight and faced

them. Tellingdwar. His grandmother. The elders. He registered their

horror, and knew in that moment they would hate him because he

had brought violence into their village.


23/94


Hate him because he had been right.

He stood beside Forchs corpse and closed one hand around the

bullet casing, resting his other on the head of the trembling child.

I will nd my own way, he whispered.

TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS LATER

The hideout door slammed against the other wall, shedding a

burst of dust. A wall of mist fell in around the man who had

kicked it open, outlining his silhouette: a mistcoat, tassels aring

from motion, a combat shotgun held up to the side.Fire! Migs cried.

The lads unloaded. Eight men, armed to their teeth, red at the

shadowy gure from behind their barricade inside the old pub.

Bullets swarmed like insects, butpartedaround this man in the long

coat. They pelted the wall, drilling holes in the door and splintering

the doorframe. They cut trails through the encroaching mist, but the

lawman, all black in the gloom, didnt so much as inch.

Migs red shot after shot, despairing. He emptied one pistol, thena second, then shouldered his rie and red as quickly as he could

cock it. How had they gotten here? Rusts, how had this happened?

It wasnt supposed to have gone like this.

Its useless! one of the lads cried. Hes gonna kill us all, Migs!

Whyre you just standin there? Migs shouted at the lawman.

Be at it already! He red twice more. Whats wrong with you?

Maybe hes distracting us, one of the lads said, so his pal can

sneak up behind us.

Hey, thats . . . Migs hesitated, looking toward the one who had

spoken. Round face. Simple, round coachmans hat, like a bowler,

but atter on top. Who was that man again? He counted his crew.

Nine?

The lad next to Migs smiled, tipped his hat, then decked him in

the face.

It was over blurringly quick. The fellow in the coachmans cap


24/94


laid out Slink and Guillian in an eyeblink. Then suddenly he was

closer to the two on the far side, slapping them down with a pair of

dueling canes. As Migs turnedfumbling for the gun hed dropped

the lawman leaped over the barricade with tassels ying and kicked

Drawers in the chin. The lawman spun, leveling his shotgun at themen on the other side.

They dropped their guns. Migs knelt, sweating, beside an over-

turned table. He waited for the gunshots.

They didnt come.

Ready for you, Captain! the lawman shouted. A pile of con-

stables rushed through the doorway, disturbing the mists. Outside,

morning light was starting to dispel those anyway. Rusts. Had theyreally holed up in here all night?

The lawman swung his gun down toward Migs. You might want

to drop that gun, friend, he said in a conversational tone.

Migs hesitated. Just shoot me, lawman. Im in too deep.

You shot two constables, the man said, nger on the trigger. But

theyll live, son. You wont hang, if I have my way. Drop the gun.

Theyd called those same words before, from outside. This time,

Migs found himself believing them. Why? he asked. You couldakilled us all without breaking a sweat. Why?

Because, the lawman said, frankly, youre not worth killing. He

smiled in a friendly-type way. Ive got enough on my conscience

already. Drop the gun. Well get this sorted out.

Migs dropped the gun and stood, then waved down Drawers, who

was climbing up with his gun in hand. The man reluctantly dropped

his weapon too.

The lawman turned, cresting the barricade with an Allomantic

leap, and slammed his shortened shotgun into a holster on his leg.

The younger man in the coachmans hat joined him, whistling softly.

He appeared to have swiped Guillians favorite knife; the ivory hilt

was sticking out of his pocket.

Theyre yours, Captain, the lawman said.

Not staying for the booking, Wax? the constable captain asked,

turning.


25/94


Unfortunately, no, the lawman said. I have to get to a wedding.

Whose?

Mine, Im afraid.

You came on a raid the morning of yourwedding? the captain

asked.The lawman, Waxillium Ladrian, stopped in the doorway. In my

defense, it wasnt my idea. He nodded one more time to the assem-

bled constables and gang members, then strode out into the mists.


26/94

PART ONE


27/94

1

Waxillium Ladrian hurried down the steps outside the bar-

turned-hideout, passing constables in brown who bustled this

way and that. The mists were already evaporating, dawn heralding

the end of their vigil. He checked his arm, where a bullet had ripped

a sizable hole through the cuff of his shirt and out the side of hisjacket. Hed felt that one pass.

Oi, Wayne said, hustling up beside him. A good plan that one

was, eh?

It was the same plan you always have, Wax said. The one where

I get to be the decoy.

Aint my fault people like to shoot at you, mate, Wayne said as

they reached the coach. You should be happy; youre usin your tal-

ents, like me granners always said a man should do.

Id rather not have shootability be my talent.

Well, you gotta use what you have, Wayne said, leaning against

the side of the carriage as Cob the coachman opened the door for

Wax. Same reason I always have bits of rat in my stew.

Wax looked into the carriage, with its ne cushions and rich up-

holstery, but didnt climb in.

You gonna be all right? Wayne asked.

1


28/94


Of course I am, Wax said. This is my second marriage. Im an

old hand at the practice by now.

Wayne grinned. Oh, is that how it works? Cuz in my experi-

ence, marryin is the one thing people seem to get worse at the

more they do it. Well, that and bein alive.Wayne, that was almost profound.

Damn. I was aimin for insightful.

Wax stood still, looking into the carriage. The coachman cleared

his throat, still standing and holding the door open for him.

Right pretty noose, that is, Wayne noted.

Dont be melodramatic, Wax said, leaning to climb in.

Lord Ladrian! a voice called from behind.Wax glanced over his shoulder, noting a tall man in a dark brown

suit and bow tie pushing between a pair of constables. Lord Ladrian,

the man said, could I have a moment, please?

Take them all, Wax said. But do it without me.

But

Ill meet you there, Wax said, nodding to Wayne. He dropped a

spent bullet shell, then Pushed himself into the air. Why waste time

on a carriage?Steel at a comfortable burn inside his stomach, he shoved on a

nearby electric streetlightstill shining, though morning had

arrived and soared higher into the air. Elendel spread before him,

a soot-stained marvel of a city, leaking smoke from a hundred

thousand different homes and factories. Wax shoved off the steel

frame of a half-nished building nearby, then sent himself in a series

of leaping bounds across the Fourth Octant.

He passed over a eld of carriages for hire, rows of vehicles wait-

ing quietly in ranks, early morning workers looking up at him as he

passed. One pointed; perhaps the mistcoat had drawn his attention.

Coinshot couriers werent an uncommon sight in Elendel, and men

soaring through the air were rarely a point of interest.

A few more leaps took him over a series of warehouses in hud-

dled rows. Wax thrilled in each jump. It was amazing how this could


29/94


still feel so wonderful to him. The breeze in his face, the little mo-

ment of weightlessness when he hung at the very top of an arc.

All too soon, however, both gravity and duty reasserted them-

selves. He left the industrial district and crossed ner roadways, paved

with pitch and gravel to create a smoother surface than cobbles for allthose blasted motorcars. He spotted the Survivorist church easily,

with its large glass and steel dome. Back in Weathering a simple

wooden chapel had been sufcient, but that wasnt nearly grand

enough for Elendel.

The design was to allow those who worshipped full view of the

mists at night. Wax gured if they wanted to see the mists, theyd

do better just stepping outside. But perhaps he was being cynical.After all, the domewhich was made of segments of glass between

steel supports, making it look like the sections of an orange was

able to open inward and let the mist pour down for special occasions.

He landed on a rooftop water tower across from the church.

Perhaps when it had been built, the churchs dome had been tall

enough to overshadow the surrounding buildings. It would have

provided a nice prole. Now, buildings were rising taller and taller,

and the church was dwarfed by its surroundings. Wayne wouldnd a metaphor in that. Probably a crude one.

He perched on the water tower, looming over the church. So he

was here, nally. He felt his eye begin to twitch, and an ache rose

within him.

I think I loved you even on that day. So ridiculous, but so earnest. . . .

Six months ago, hed pulled the trigger. He could still hear the

gunshot.

Standing up, he pulled himself together. Hed healed this wound

once. He could do so again. And if that left his heart crusted with

scar tissue, then perhaps that was what he needed. He leaped off

the water tower, then slowed by dropping and Pushing on a shell

casing.

He hit the street and strode past a long line of carriages. Guests

were already in attendanceSurvivorist tenets called for weddings


30/94


either very early in the morning or late at night. Wax nodded to sev-

eral people he passed, and couldnt help slipping his shotgun out of

its holster and resting it on his shoulder as he hopped up the steps

and shoved the door open before him with a Steelpush.

Steris paced in the foyer, wearing a sleek white dress that hadbeen chosen because the magazines said it was fashionable. With

her hair braided and her makeup done by a professional for the

occasion, she was actually quite pretty.

He smiled when he saw her. His stress, his nervousness, melted

away a little.

Steris looked up as soon as he entered, then hurried to his side.

And?I didnt get killed, he said, so theres that.

She glanced at the clock. Youre late, she said, but not very late.

Im . . . sorry? Shed insisted he go on the raid. Shed planned

for it, in fact. Such was life with Steris.

Im sure you did your best, Steris said, taking his arm. She was

warm, and even trembling. Steris might be reserved, but unlike what

some assumed, she wasnt emotionless.

The raid? she asked.Went well. No casualties. He walked with her to a side cham-

ber, where Drewtonhis valetwaited beside a table spread with

Waxs white wedding suit. You realize that by going on a raid on the

morning of my wedding, Ill only reinforce this image that society

has of me.

Which image?

That of a rufan, he said, taking off his mistcoat and handing it

to Drewton. A barely civilized lout from the Roughs who curses in

church and goes to parties armed.

She glanced at his shotgun, which hed tossed onto the sofa. You

enjoy playing with peoples perceptions of you, dont you? You seek

to make them uncomfortable, so theyll be off balance.

Its one of the simple joys I have left, Steris. He smiled as Drew-

ton unbuttoned his waistcoat. Then he pulled off both that and his

shirt, leaving him bare- chested.


31/94


I see Im included in those you try to make uncomfortable, Steris

said.

I work with what I have, Wax said.

Which is why you always have bits of rat in your stew?

Wax hesitated in handing his clothing to Drewton. He said thatto you too?

Yes. Im increasingly convinced he tries the lines out on me.

She folded her arms. The little mongrel.

Not going to leave as I change? Wax asked, amused.

Were to be married in less than an hour, Lord Waxillium, she

said. I think I can stand to see you bare-chested. As a side note,

yourethe Pathian. Prudishness is part of your belief system, not mine.Ive read of Kelsier. From what Ive studied, I doubt hed care if

Wax undid the wooden buttons on his trousers. Steris blushed,

before turning around and nally putting her back to him. She con-

tinued speaking a moment later, sounding ustered. Well, at least

you agreed to a proper ceremony.

Wax smiled, settling down in his undershorts and letting Drew-

ton give his face a quick shave. Steris remained in place, listening.

Finally, as Drewton was wiping the cream from Waxs face, sheasked, You have the pendants?

Gave them to Wayne.

You . . . What?

I thought you wanted some disturbances at the wedding, Wax

said, standing and taking the new set of trousers from Drewton. He

slipped them on. He hadnt worn white much since returning from

the Roughs. It was harder to keep clean out there, which had made

it worth wearing. I gured this would work.

I wantedplanneddisturbances, Lord Waxillium, Steris snapped.

Its not upsetting if its understood, prepared for, and controlled.

Wayne is rather the opposite of those things, wouldnt you say?

Wax did up his buttons and Drewton took his shirt off the hanger

nearby. Steris turned around immediately upon hearing the sound,

arms still folded, and didnt miss a beatrefusing to acknowledge

that shed been embarrassed. Im glad I had copies made.


32/94


You made copiesof our wedding pendants?

Yes. She chewed her lip a moment. Six sets.

Six?

The other four didnt arrive in time.

Wax grinned, doing up the buttons on his shirt, then letting hisvalet handle the cuffs. Youre one of a kind, Steris.

Technically, so is Wayneand actually so was Ruin, for that

matter. If you consider it, thats not much of a compliment.

Wax strapped on suspenders, then let Drewton fuss with his col-

lar. I dont get it, Steris, he said, standing stify as the valet worked.

You prepare so thoroughly for things to go wronglike you know

and expect that life is unpredictable.Yes, and?

And life isunpredictable. So the only thing you do by preparing

for disturbances is ensure that something elseis going to go wrong.

Thats a rather fatalistic viewpoint.

Living in the Roughs does that to a fellow. He eyed her, stand-

ing resplendent in her dress, arms crossed, tapping her left arm with

her right index nger.

I just . . . feel better when I try, Steris nally said. Its like, ifeverything goes wrong, at least I tried. Does that make any sense?

As a matter of fact, I think it does.

Drewton stepped back, satised. The suit came with a very nice

black cravat and vest. Traditional, which Wax preferred. Bow ties

were for salesmen. He slid on the jacket, tails brushing the backs of

his legs. Then, after a moments hesitation, he strapped on his gun-

belt and slid Vindication into her holster. Hed worn a gun to his last

wedding, so why not this one? Steris nodded in approval.

Shoes went last. A new pair. Theyd be hideously uncomfortable.

Are we late enough yet? he asked Steris.

She checked the clock in the corner. I planned for us to go in

two minutes from now.

Ah, delightful, he said, taking her arm. That means we can be

spontaneous and arrive early. Well, late-early.

She clung to his arm, letting him steer her down the side cham-


33/94


ber toward the entrance to the dome, and the church proper. Drew-

ton followed behind.

Are you . . . certain you wish to proceed? Steris asked, stopping

him before they entered the walkway to the dome.

Having second thoughts?Absolutely not, Steris said immediately. This union is quite ben-

ecial to my house and status. She took Waxs left hand in both of

hers. But Lord Waxillium, she said softly, I dont want you to feel

trapped, particularly after what happened to you earlier this year.

If you wish to back out, I will accept it as your will.

The way she clutched his hand as she said those words sent a

very different message. But she didnt seem to notice. Looking ather, Wax found himself wondering. When hed rst agreed to the

marriage, hed done so out of duty to his house.

Now, he felt his emotions shifting. The way shed been there for

him these last months as hed grieved . . . The way she looked at him

right now . . .

Rust and Ruin. He was actuallyfondof Steris. It wasnt love, but

he doubted he would love again. This would do.

No, Steris, he said. I would not back out. That . . . wouldnt befair to your house, and the money you have spent.

The money doesnt

Its all right, Wax said, giving her hand a little squeeze. I have

recovered enough from my ordeal. Im strong enough to do this.

Steris opened her mouth to reply, but a knock at the door her-

alded Marasi sticking her head in to check on them. With dark hair

and softer, rounder features than Steris, Marasi wore bright red

lipstick and a progressive ladys attirea pleated skirt, with a tight

buttoned jacket.

Finally, she said. Crowd is getting dgety. Wax, theres a man

here wanting to see you. Ive been trying to send him away, but . . .

well . . .

She came into the room and held the door open, revealing the

same slender man in the brown suit and bow tie from before, stand-

ing with the ash girls in the antechamber that led to the dome proper.


34/94


You, Wax said. How did you get here before Wayne?

I dont believe your friend is coming, the man said. He stepped

in beside Marasi and nodded to her, then closed the doors, shut-

ting out the ash girls. He turned and tossed Wax a wadded-up ball

of paper.When Wax caught it, it clinked. Unfolding it revealed the two

wedding pendants. Scrawled on the paper were the words: Gonna

go get smashed till I cant piss straight. Happy weddings n stuff.

Such beautiful imagery, Steris observed, taking Waxs wedding

pendant in a white-gloved hand as Marasi looked over his shoulder

to read the note. At least he didnt forget these.

Thank you, Wax said to the man in brown, but as you cansee, Im quite busy getting married. Whatever you need from me

can

The mans face turned translucent, displaying the bones of his

skull and spine beneath.

Steris stiffened. Holy One, she whispered.

Holy pain, Wax said. Tell Harmony to get someone else this

time. Im busy.

Tell . . . Harmony. . . Steris mumbled, her eyes wide.Unfortunately, this is part of the problem, the man in brown

said, his skin returning to normal. Harmony has been distracted as

of late.

How can God be distracted? Marasi asked.

Were not sure, but it has us worried. I need you, Waxillium

Ladrian. I have a job youll nd of interest. I realize youre off to the

ceremony, but afterward, if I could have a moment of your time . . .

No, Wax said.

But

No.

Wax pulled Steris by the arm, shoving open the doors, striding

past Marasi, leaving the kandra. It had been six months since those

creatures had manipulated him, played him, and lied to him. The

result? A dead woman in his arms.

Bastards.


35/94


Was that really one of the Faceless Immortals? Steris said, look-

ing over her shoulder.

Yes, and for obvious reasons I want nothing to do with them.

Peace, she said, holding his arm. Do you need a moment?

No.Youre sure?

Wax stopped in place. She waited, and he breathed in and out,

banishing from his mind that awful,awfulscene when hed knelt

on a bridge alone, holding Lessie. A woman he realized hed never

actually known.

Im all right, he said to Steris through clenched teeth. But God

should have known not to come for me. Particularly not today.Your life is . . . decidedly odd, Lord Waxillium.

I know, he said, moving again, stepping with her beside the last

door before they entered the dome. Ready?

Yes, thank you. Was she . . . teary-eyed? It was an expression

of emotion hed never seen from her.

Areyouall right? he asked.

Yes, she said. Forgive me. Its just . . . more wonderful than Id

imagined.They pushed open the doors, revealing the glistening dome, sun-

light streaming through it and upon the waiting crowd. Acquain-

tances. Distant family members. Seamstresses and forgeworkers

from his house. Wax sought out Wayne, and was surprised when he

didnt nd the man, despite the note. He was the only real family

Wax had.

The ash girls scampered out, sprinkling small handfuls of ash on

the carpeted walkway that ringed the perimeter of the dome. Wax

and Steris started forward in a stately walk, presenting themselves for

those in attendance. There was no music at a Survivorist ceremony,

but a few crackling braziers with green leaves on top let smoke

trail upward to represent the mist.

Smoke ascends while ash falls, he thought, remembering the

priests words from his youth, back when hed attended Survivorist

ceremonies. They walked all the way around the crowd. At least


36/94


Steriss family had made a decent showing, her father included

the red-faced man gave Waxillium an enthusiastic st-raise as they

passed.

Wax found himself smiling. This was what Lessie had wanted.

Theyd joked time and time again about their simple Pathian cer-emony, nalized on horsebackto escape a mob. She said that some-

day, shed make him do it proper.

Sparkling crystal. A hushed crowd. Footsteps on scrunching

carpet dappled with grey ash. His smile widened, and he looked to

the side.

But of course, the wrong woman was there.

He almost stumbled. Idiot man,he thought. Focus.This day wasimportant to Steris; the least he could do was not ruin it. Or rather,

not ruin it in a way she hadnt expected. Whatever that meant.

Unfortunately, as they walked the remaining distance around the

rotunda, his discomfort increased. He felt nauseous. Sweaty. Sick,

like the feeling he had gotten the few times he had been forced to

run from a killer and leave innocents in danger.

It all forced him, nally, to acknowledge a difcult fact. He wasnt

ready. It wasnt Steris, it wasnt the setting. He just wasnt readyforthis.

This marriage meant letting go of Lessie.

But he was trapped, and he hadto be strong. He set his jaw and

stepped with Steris onto the dais, where the priest stood between

two stands topped with crystal vases of Marewill owers. The cere-

mony was drawn from ancient Larsta beliefs, from Harmonys

Beliefs Reborn,a volume in the Words of Founding.

The priest spoke the words, but Wax couldnt listen. All was

numbness to him, teeth clenched, eyes straight ahead, muscles tense.

Theyd found a priest murdered in this very church. Killed by Lessie

as she went mad. Couldnt they have done something for her, instead

of setting him on the hunt? Couldnt they have toldhim?

Strength. He wouldnotee. He wouldnotbe a coward.

He held Steriss hands, but couldnt look at her. Instead, he turned

his face upward to look out the glass dome toward the sky. Most of


37/94


it was crowded out by the buildings. Skyscrapers on two sides, win-

dows glistening in the morning sun. That water tower certainly did

block the view, though as he watched, it shifted. . . .

Shifted?

Wax watched in horror as the legs under the enormous metalcylinder bent, as if to kneel, ponderously tipping their burden on its

side. The top of the thing sheared off, spilling tons of water in a

foaming wave.

He yanked Steris to him, arm rmly around her waist, then ripped

off the second button down on his waistcoat and dropped it. He

Pushed against this single metal button, launching himself and Steris

away from the dais as the priest yelped in surprise.Water crashedagainst the dome, which strained for the briefest

of seconds before a section of it snapped open, hinges giving way

inward to the water.


38/94

2

Are you certain youre all right, my lord? Wax asked, helping

Lord Drapen, constable-general of the Sixth Octant, down

the steps toward his carriage. Water trickled beside them in little

streams, joining a small river in the gutters.

Ruined my best pistol, you realize, Drapen said. Ill have to sendthe thing to be cleaned and oiled!

Bill me the expense, my lord, Wax said, ignoring the fact that a

good pistol would hardly be ruined by a littleor, well, a lotof

water. Wax turned the aging gentleman over to his coachman, shar-

ing a resigned look, before turning and climbing back up the steps

into the church. The carpet squished when he stepped on it. Or

maybe that was his shoes.

He passed the priest bickering with the Erikell insurance

assessorcome to do an initial report for when the church demanded

payment on their policyand entered the main dome. The one open

section of glass still swung on its hinges up above, and the tipped

water towerits legs on the other side had kept it from crashing

down completelystill blocked out much of the sky.

He passed overturned benches, discarded Marewill petals, and

general refuse. Water dripped, the rooms only sound other than the

2


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echoing voice of the priest. Wax squished his way up to the dais.

Steris sat on its edge, wet dress plastered to her body, strands of hair

that had escaped from her wedding braids sticking to the sides of

her face. She sat with arms crossed on her knees, staring at the oor.

Wax sat down next to her. So, next time a ood is dumped onour heads, Ill try to remember that jumping upwardis a bad idea.

He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and squeezed it out.

You tried to get us backward too. It merely wasnt fast enough,

Lord Waxillium.

He grunted. Looks like simple structural failure. If itwasinstead

some kind of assassination attempt . . . well, it was an incompetent

one. There wasnt enough water in there to be truly dangerous. Theworst injury was to Lord Steming, who fell and knocked his head

when scrambling off his seat.

No more than an accident then, Steris said. She opped back-

ward onto the dais, the carpet letting out a soft squish.

Im sorry.

Its not your fault. She sighed. Do you ever wonder if perhaps

the cosmere is out to overwhelm you, Lord Waxillium?

The cosmere? You mean Harmony?No, not Him, Steris said. Just cosmic chance rolling the dice

anytime I pass, and always hitting all ones. There seems to be a po-

etry to it all. She closed her eyes. Of coursethe wedding would fall

apart. Several tons of water falling through the roof? Why wouldnt

I have seen that? Its so utterly outlandish it hadto happen. At least

the priest didnt get murdered this time.

Steris, Wax said, resting a hand on her arm. Well x this. It

will be all right.

She opened her eyes, looking toward him. Thank you, Lord Wax-

illium.

For what, exactly? he asked.

For being nice. For being willing to subject yourself to, well, me.

I understand that it is not a pleasant concept.

Steris . . .

Do not think me self-deprecating, Lord Waxillium, she said,


40/94


sitting up and taking a deep breath, and please do not assume Im

being morose. I am what I am, and I accept it. But I am under no

illusions as to how my company is regarded. Thank you. For not mak-

ing me feel as others have.

He hesitated. How did one respond to something like that? Itsnot as you say, Steris. I think youre delightful.

And the fact that you were gritting your teeth as the ceremony

started, hands gripping as tightly as a man dangling for his life from

the side of a bridge?

I . . .

Are you saddened at the fact that our wedding is delayed? Can

you truly say it, and be honest as a lawman, Lord Waxillium?Damn. He oundered. He knew a few simple words could de-

fuse or sidestep the question, but he couldnt nd them, despite

searching for what was an awkwardly long time until saying any-

thing would have sounded condescending.

Perhaps, he said, smiling, Ill just have to try something to

relax me next time we attempt this.

I doubt going to the ceremony drunk would be productive.

I didnt say Id drink. Perhaps some Terris meditation before-hand.

She eyed him. Youre still willing to move forward?

Of course. As long as it didnt have to be today. I assume you

have a backup dress?

Two, she admitted, letting him help her to her feet. And I did

reserve another date for a wedding two months from now. Different

churchin case this one exploded.

He grunted. You sound like Wayne.

Well, things dotend to explode around you, Lord Waxillium.

She looked up at the dome. Considering that, getting drenched

must be rather novel.

Marasi trailed around the outside of the ooded church, hands

clasped behind her back, notebook a familiar weight in her jacket


41/94


pocket. A few constablesall corporalsstood about looking as

if they were in charge. That sort of thing was important in a crisis;

statistics showed that if a uniformed authority gure was nearby,

people were less likely to panic.

Of course, there was also a smaller percentage who were morelikely to panic if an authority gure was nearby. Because people were

people, and if there was one thing you could count on, it was that

some of them would be weird. Or rather thatallof them would be

weird when circumstances happened to align with their own indi-

vidual brand of insanity.

That said, today she hunted a very special kind of insane. Shed

tried the nearby pubs rst, but that was too obvious. Next shechecked the gutters, one soup kitchen, andagainst her better

judgmenta purveyor of novelties. No luck, though her back-

side did get threeseparate compliments, so there was that.

Finally, running out of ideas, she went to check if hed decided

to steal the forks from the wedding breakfast. There, in a dining hall

across the street from the church, she found Wayne in the kitchens

wearing a white jacket and a chefs hat. He was scolding several

assistant cooks as they furiously decorated tarts with fruit glaze.Marasi leaned against the doorway and watched, tapping her

notebook with her pencil. Wayne sounded utterly unlike himself,

instead using a sharp, nasal voice with an accent she couldnt quite

place. Easterner, perhaps? Some of the outer cities there had thick

accents.

The assistant cooks didnt question him. They jumped at what he

said, bearing his condemnation as he tasted a chilled soup and swore

at their incompetence. If he noticed Marasi, he didnt show it, instead

wiping his hands on a cloth and demanding to see the produce the

delivery boys had brought that morning.

Eventually, Marasi strolled into the kitchen, dodging a short

assistant chef bearing a pot almost as big as she was, and stepped up

to Wayne.

Ive seen crisper lettuce in the garbage heap! he was saying to

a cringing delivery boy. And you call these grapes? These are so


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overripe, theyre practically fermenting! Andoh, ello, Marasi. He

said the last line in his normal, jovial voice.

The delivery boy scrambled away.

What are you doing? Marasi asked.

Makin soup, Wayne said, holding up a wooden spoon to showher. Nearby, several of the assistant cooks stopped in place, looking

at him with shocked expressions.

Out with you! he said to them in the chefs voice. I must have

time to prepare! Shoo, shoo, go!

They scampered away, leaving him grinning.

You do realize the wedding breakfast is canceled, Marasi said,

leaning back against a table.Sure do.

So why . . .

She trailed off as he stuffed an entire tart in his mouth and

grinned. Hadda make sure they didnt welch on their promif an not

make anyng to eat, he said around chewing, crumbs cascading

from his lips. We paid for this stuff. Well, Wax did. Sides, wedding

being canceled is no reason not to celebrate, right?

Depends on what youre celebrating, Marasi said, ipping openher notebook. Bolts securing the water tower in place were denitely

loosened. Road below was conspicuously empty, some rufans

from another octant entirely, I might addhaving stopped trafc by

starting a stght in the middle of the rusting street.

Wayne grunted, searching in a cupboard. Hate that little note-

book of yours sometimes.

Marasi groaned, closing her eyes. Someone could have been hurt,

Wayne.

Now, that aint right at all. Someonewashurt. That fat fellow

what has no hair.

She massaged her temples. You realize Im a constable now,

Wayne. I cant turn a blind eye towardwantonproperty damage.

Ah, s not so bad, Wayne said, still rummaging. Waxll pay

for it.

And if someone had been hurt? Seriously, I mean?


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Wayne kept searching. The lads got a little carried away. See

that the church is ooded, I told them. Meant for the priest to open

the place in the morning and nd his plumbing had gotten a little

case of the being all busted up and leaking all over the rusting place.

But the lads, they got a little excited is all.The lads?

Just some friends.

Saboteurs.

Nah, Wayne said. You think they could pronounce that?

Wayne . . .

I slapped em around already, Marasi, Wayne said. Promise

I did.Hes going to gure it out, Marasi said. What will you do then?

Nah, youre wrong, Wayne said, nally coming out of the cup-

board with a large glass jug. Wax has a blind spot for things like

this. In the back of his noggin, hell be relieved that I stopped the

wedding. Hell gure it was me, deep in his subcontinence, and will

pay for the damagesno matter what the assessor says. And he wont

say anything, wont even investigate. Watch.

I dont know. . . .Wayne hopped up onto the kitchen counter, then patted the spot

beside him. She regarded him for a moment, then sighed and set-

tled onto the counter there.

He offered her the jug.

Thats cooking sherry, Wayne.

Yeah, he said, pubs dont serve anything this hour but beer. A

fellow has to get creative.

Im sure we could nd some wine around

He took a swig.

Never mind, Marasi said.

He lowered the jug and pulled off his chefs hat, tossing it onto

the counter. Whatre you so uptight for today, anyway? I gured

youd be whooping for joy and runnin around the street pickin ow-

ers and stuff. Hes not marrying her. Not yet, anyway. You still got a

chance.


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I dontwanta chance, Wayne. Hes made his decision.

Now, what kinda talk is that? he demanded. Youve given up?

Is that how the Ascendant Warrior was? Huh?

No, in fact, Marasi said. She walked up to the man she

wanted, slapped the book out of his hand, and kissed him.See, theres how it is!

Though the Ascendant Warrior also went on and murdered

the woman Elend was planning to marry.

What, really?

Yeah.

Gruesome, Wayne said in an approving tone, then took another

swig of sherry.Thats not the half of it, Marasi said, leaning back on the counter,

hands behind her. You want gruesome? She also supposedly ripped

out the Lord Rulers insides. Ive seen it depicted in several illumi-

nated manuscripts.

Kind of graphic for a religious-type story.

Actually, theyre all like that. I think they have to put in lots of

exciting bits to make people read the rest.

Huh. He seemed disbelieving.Wayne, havent you ever readany religious texts?

Sure I have.

Really?

Yeah, lots of the things I read have religious texts in them. Damn.

Hell. Flatulent, arse-licking git.

She gave him a at stare.

That last one is in the Testimony of Hammond. Promise. Least,

all the letters are. Another swig. Wayne could outdrink anyone she

knew. Of course, that was mostly because he could tap his metal-

mind, heal himself, and burn away the alcohols effects in an

eyeblinkthen start over.

Here now, he continued, thats what youve gotta do. Be like

the Lady Mistborn. Get your murderin on, see. Dont back down.

He should be yours, and you gotta let people know.

My . . . murderin on?


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Sure.

Against my sister.

You could be polite about it, Wayne said. Like, give her the rst

stab or whatnot.

No, thank you.It doesnt have to be realmurderin, Marasi, Wayne said, hop-

ping off the counter. It can be gurative and all. But you should

ght. Dont let him marry her.

Marasi leaned her head back, looking up at the set of ladles swing-

ing above the counter. Im not the Ascendant Warrior, Wayne, she

said. And I dont particularly care to be. I dont want someone I

have to convince, someone I have to rope into submission. That sortof thing is for the courtroom, not the bedroom.

Now, see, I think some people would say

Careful.

thats a right enlightened way to think of things. He took a

swig of sherry.

Im not some tortured, abandoned creature, Wayne, Marasi said,

nding herself smiling at her distorted reection in a ladle. Im not

sitting around pining and dreaming for someone else to decide if Ishould be happy. Theres nothing there. Whether thats due to actual

lack of affection on his part, or more to stubbornness, I dont care.

Ive moved on.

She looked down, meeting Waynes eyes. He cocked his head.

Huh. Youre serious, arent you?

Damn right.

Moved on . . . he said. Rusted nuts! You can dothat?

Certainly.

Huh. You think . . . I should . . . you know . . . Ranette . . .

Wayne, if ever someone should have taken a hint, it was you.

Yes. Move on. Really.

Oh, I took the hint, he said, taking a swig of sherry. Just cant

remember which jacket I left it in. He looked down at the jug. You

sure?

She has agirlfriend, Wayne.


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S only a phase, he mumbled. One what lasted fteen years. . . .

He set the jug down, then sighed and reached into the cupboard

from before, taking out a bottle of wine.

Oh, for Preservationssake, Marasi said. That was in there all

along?Tastes better iffen you drink something what tastes like dish-

water rst, Wayne said, then pulled the cork out with his teeth,

whichwaskind of impressive, she had to admit. He poured her a

cup, then one for himself. To moving on? he asked.

Sure. To moving on. She raised her cup, and saw reected in the

wine someone standing behind her.

She gasped, spinning, reaching for her purse. Wayne just raisedhis cup to the newcomer, who rounded the counter with a slow step.

It was the man in the brown suit and bow tie. No, not the man. The

kandra.

If youre here to persuade me to persuade him, Wayne said, you

should know that he doesnt ever listen to me unless hes pretty drunk

at the time. He downed the wine. S probably why hes lived so long.

Actually, the kandra said, Im not here for you. He turned to

Marasi, then tipped his head. My rst choice for this endeavor hasrejected my request. I hope you dont take offense at being my

second.

Marasi found her heart thumping quickly. What do you want?

The kandra smiled broadly. Tell me, Miss Colms. What do you

know about the nature of Investiture and Identity?


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3

Wax, at least, had a change of clothing that wasnt wetthe

suit he had worn on the raid. So he was pleasantly dry as his

carriage pulled up to Ladrian Mansion. Steris had returned to her

fathers house to recover.

Wax put aside his broadsheet and waited for Cob, the new coach-man, to hop down and yank open the carriage door. There was a

frantic eagerness to the little mans motions, as if he knew that Wax

only used a coach for proprietys sake. Leaping home on lines of steel

would have been far faster, but just as a lord couldnt walk every-

where, Steelpushing around town too much in the daytime when not

chasing criminals made members of his house uncomfortable. It

simply wasnt what a house lord did.

Wax nodded to Cob and handed him the broadsheet. Cob grinned;

he loved the things. Take the rest of the day off, Wax told him. I

know you were looking forward to the wedding festivities.

Cobs grin widened, then he bobbed his head and climbed back

onto the coach to see it, and the horses, cared for before leaving.

Hed likely spend the day at the races.

Wax sighed, climbing the steps to the mansion. It was one of

the nest in the cityluxurious with carved stonework and deep

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hardwood, with tasteful marble accents. That didnt stop it from

being a prison. It was just a very nice one.

Wax didnt enter. Instead, he stood on the steps for a while

before turning around and sitting on them. Closing his eyes, he let

it all settle on him.He was good at hiding his scars. Hed been shot almost a dozen

times now, a few of those wounds quite bad. Out in the Roughs, hed

learned to pick himself up and keep on going, no matter what hap-

pened.

At the same time, it felt like things back then had been simple.

Not always easy, but simple. And some scars continued to ache.

Seemed to get worse with time.He rose with a groan, leg stiff, and continued up the steps.

Nobody opened the door for him or took his coat as he entered. He

maintained a small staff in the house, but only what he considered

necessary. Too many servants, and theyd hover and worry when he

did anything on his own. It was as if the idea of him being capable

drove them into feeling vestigial. . . .

Wax frowned, then slipped Vindication from his hip holster and

raised her beside his head. He couldnt say, precisely, what had sethim off. Footsteps up above, when hed given the housekeepers the

day off. A cup on a side table with a bit of wine in the bottom.

He icked a little vial from his belt and downed the contents:

steel akes suspended in whiskey. The metal burned a familiar

warmth inside of him, radiating from his stomach, and blue lines

sprang into existence around him. They moved with him as he crept

forward, as if he were tied with a thousand tiny threads.

He leaped and Pushed on the inlays in the marble oor, soaring

up alongside the stairs to the second-story viewing balcony above the

grand entryway. He slipped easily over the banister, landing with gun

at the ready. The door to his study quivered, then opened.

Wax tiptoed forward.

Just a moment, I The man in the light brown suit froze as he

found Waxs gun pressed against his temple.

You, Wax said.


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Im quite fond of this skull, the kandra remarked. Its sixth-

century anteverdant, the head of a metal merchant from Urteau

whose grave was shifted and protected as a side effect of Harmonys

rebuilding. An antique, if you will. If you make a hole in it, Ill be

ratherput out.I told you I wasnt interested, Wax growled.

Yes. I took that to heart, Lord Ladrian.

Then why are you here?

Because I was invited, the kandra said. He reached up and

grasped the barrel of Waxs gun between two ngers, then pushed it

gently to the side. We needed a place to converse. Your associate

suggested it, asIm toldthe servants are away.My associate? At that point, he heard laughter from ahead.

Wayne. He eyed the kandra, then sighed and slipped his gun into

its holster. Which one are you? TenSoon, is that you?

Me? the kandra asked, laughing. TenSoon? What, do you hear

me panting? He chuckled, gesturing for Wax to enter his own

study, as if he were doing Wax some grand courtesy. I am VenDell,

of the Sixth. Pleased to meet you, Lord Ladrian. If you must shoot

me, please do it in the left leg, as Ive no par ticular fondness for thosebones.

Im not going to shoot you, Wax said, shoving past the kandra

and entering the room. The blinds had been drawn and the thick

curtains left to droop down, plunging the room into almost complete

darkness, save for two small new electric lamps. Why the closed cur-

tains? Was the kandra that concerned about being seen?

Wayne lounged in Waxs easy chair, feet up on the cocktail table,

helping himself to a bowl of walnuts. A woman stretched out in a

similar posture in the companion chair, wearing tight trousers and

a loose blouse, eyes closed as she leaned back in the chair, hands

behind her head. She wore a different body from last time Wax had

seen her, but the postureand the heightgave him good clues that

this was MeLaan.

Marasi was inspecting some odd equipment set up on a pedestal

at the back of the room. It was a box with small lenses on the front.


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She stood up straight as soon as she saw him, andbeing Marasi

blushed deeply.

Sorry about this, she said. We were going to go to my at to

talk, but Wayne insisted. . . .

Needed some nuts, Wayne said around a mouthful of walnuts.When you invited me to stay here, you didsay to make myself at

home, mate.

Im still unclear as to why youneededa place to talk, Wax said.

I said I wasnt going to help.

Quite so, VenDell said from the doorway. As you were unavail-

able, of necessity I turned to other options. Lady Colms has been so

kind as to listen to my proposition.Marasi? Wa

the bands of mourning extract (chaps 1-5)

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